


Snowball Fight.

by ArticulateOx



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy - Fandom, gotg
Genre: Gen, This is my first fic in a while wow I can't write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 13:30:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11253945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArticulateOx/pseuds/ArticulateOx
Summary: A young Peter Quill thinks snow's the same on all planets, and Kraglin gets stuck with babysitting this tiny idiot.





	Snowball Fight.

A whole forest of Aygroid trees were quite a distracting thing to young eyes. The Ravagers had barely flown under the dense cloud cover of SF-12.28, before Peter had his nose glued to the window, and would probably be useless for the rest of the mission. Hoards of the feathery, magenta-gray leaves that carpeted the planet’s hills cause Peter to gasp in wonder. Past the leaves were the multicolored fruits that would transition between bright pink, and a gray that matched the leaves. Kraglin sighed. This was going to be one of those dangerous “Peter Runs Off And Tries To Touch Everything” missions. Or worse, one where all the other crewmates got to go off raiding, and he was left with a curt, “watch after the boy.” and a good view of the fun he would miss.   
Inevitably, Peter jabbed a finger at the flickering fruits, and his head snapped up to look at Kraglin. Kraglin braced himself for a stupid question.  
“Why are they doing that?” Peter asked, so innocently.  
Maybe if he pretended he hadn’t heard, Peter would eventually forget the question, or something.  
“Kraglin! Why are they changing color!? KRAGLIN!” Little Peter was tugging at Kraglin’s sleeve now, and the chuckles from some crewmates passing by struck Kraglin right in the Nerve. The ‘stoically staring out the window’ facade was unrecoverable.  
“They just do that, okay?!” There. Question answered. Now maybe-  
“But WHY do they do that?!” Peter tugged harder.  
The wine in his voice made Kraglin growl, and he narrowed his eyes at Peter, “They do that because their natural enemy, an Amphigate, hates flickering colors like that, so it evolved little slaps that flick up and down, and there’s one color on one side, and one on another, and they just DO that, okay?!”  
Kraglin had made the brash assumption that that would put a stop to the questions.  
“But why do the Amphibibates eat them?”  
Kraglin was wrong. His lips drew up into a thin line of frustration, and he tried to focus back outside, on the planet’s surface.  
Punching under the cloud cover was rough, but now that they were out of it, they could finally land in the clearing they had found earlier. The hills of SF-12.28 were well rounded, and would have presented as a soothing landscape, had it not been for the mottled red and black spires jutting up into the sky that interrupted the landscape. Off in the distance there was a cluster of spires that surrounded their target. It was a small mining city, whose main export was fyroxite. The black market had a high regard for fyroxite, and the Eclector needed some upgrades.  
What really had Kraglin’s attention, however, was the clouds. They were developing a darker tinge to their rust-gray color. Raglin knew this planet had a tendency for odd weather patterns, and he wondered if the turbulence and rattling they had experienced in the upper atmosphere meant difficulties on the surface.  
“Look! Look, Kraglin, it’s snowing!” Peter was nearly vibrating, and Kraglin had never seen the boy happier, and he had never been more baffled as to why. The snows of SF-12.28 were not the usual snows of other planets. Sure, it had the usual atmosphere for ‘normal’ life, but all the odd chemicals were in the clouds. Kraglin watched the first flakes of yellow and brown tinted triangular blobs fall in front of the ship window.   
Kraglin groaned. This job would be hard enough without a snow of diamond shards raining down, and clogging up their engines and weapons. Plus, those with thinner skins and hides would need to cover themselves from head to foot, to keep from getting cut from the shards. Maybe babysitting Peter on the ship wouldn’t be that bad after all.  
Kraglin braced himself, and put a firm hand on Peter’s head out of instinct as the ship ‘clunked’ to a stop on the ground. Peter stumbled a little, but he didn’t flop to the ground this time at least. The ship door opened, and the crew started funneling out and setting up camp. Kraglin didn’t really have much of a job here, aside from giving everyone else jobs, so he stayed by the window, and promised to go outside eventually. Besides, he wanted to keep Peter as far away from the snow as possible, so maybe staying by the window would encourage him to-  
The quick footsteps running down the hallway to the ship’s door and Peter’s ever-quieting cry of “It’s snowing!” were Kraglin’s only warning.   
He bolted after Peter and tried calling his name, but that only ever stopped the brat when Yondu yelled it at him. Kraglin was always amazed at how frighteningly fast Young Terrans were. He was in a full-tilt sprint, and Peter was still nearly outrunning him. Peter made it to the ship’s main door, and Kraglin was just beginning to elbow his way past the crew to catch up to the little bugger.   
The crew looked at Peter in confusion as he whooped and romped in the fine dusting of diamond shards.   
Kraglin stopped by the door, panting. He resented his earlier panic. Peter seemed fine, and he was running around, happy as ever. Maybe Terrans had a resistant hide, who knows.  
Then Peter crouched down, and did what any little boy, tempted by snow would do, and started trying to squeeze together a snowball.  
\---  
Four hours in the med bay and two pairs of the finest-tipped tweezers later, and Peter was laying curled up in his bun, whimpering, hands hidden under layers and blobs of bandages.  
Yondu had spent the last forty minutes ranting at Kraglin about paying attention on the job, and the value of having a small Terran on the crew, and the need to preserve said small Terran. Kraglin didn’t think it was possible, but he was now in a worse mood than before.  
He was nursing a pint in a lonely part of the galley, and flicking through a tablet. He still didn’t quite understand why Peter had been so excited about the snow. It was literally shards of discolored diamond, that were too small and rough to sell, and got in all the nooks and crannies of everything and splintered everywhere. Kraglin sighed. Maybe Peter had wanted to sell the diamonds on Terra. Terrans liked shiney things, and they did make a lot of jewelry out of diamonds.  
Between sips of his brew, Kraglin had been flipping through the pages about Terran snow, until he found a photograph labelled “snow day.” It was about a half-dozen Terran children, bundled in colorful, bulky clothing, rolling around and throwing wads of pure white dust at each other.  
Kraglin blinked. He read the description next to the picture. Then he had an idea.   
He chugged the last dregs of his drink, tossed it in the washer’s window, and tugged on a pair of leather gloves. He paused for one moment just to think about what he was doing, then he did it.  
He stuck his gloved hand under the rations dispenser, and punched in an order for shaved ice.  
A few crewmates stared when the ice fell into his palm. A few stared as he walked down the hall to the general quarters, kneading a wad of dripping ice, and smiling rather deviously. A few stared as he opened a door, reared his arm back, and yelled jokingly, “PETER! SNOWBALL FIGHT!” They heard a sharp smack and a yelp as the wad of ice made contact. The crewmates saw Kraglin laughing, then they saw a slightly smaller wad of ice smack him square in the face, and Peter’s happiest yell ever, “SNOWBALL FIGHT!”

**Author's Note:**

> *comes back after a year* Babe, what's my username again?  
> Thank you for reading! I don't have much muse for writing, but I wanted to try this little blurp.


End file.
